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Wednesday, May 21, 2014

FBW: Pumps and Dumps and Baby Bumps

Fifteen minutes ago, my child crawled over to where I was sitting cross-legged on the basement carpet, sucking down lukewarm coffee, and working on a blog post. He smiled up at me. He clapped his hands to signal, "Time for Patty Cake!" He tilted his head and sweetly said, "Mama?" Then he shut my laptop. So he's in his crib right now, taking a nap and/or thinking about what he did. Naturally, I feel bad that my 15-month-old has to compete for attention with you, lovely reader(s), but Pork Chop can't hit the Like button on Facebook yet. So you win!I'm a little late to the whole mothering gig. Not that I'm pushing retirement, but I had my son a few week's shy of my 37th birthday. During my first ultrasound, the obstetrician, whilst checking my lady credentials, if you will, mentioned my "advanced maternal age." Actually, the term he first used was "elderly primigravida." I didn't know what the hell "primigravida" meant, but it's not like I heard anything past "elderly."

"What the hell is going on down there?" I wondered. Was my uterus sprouting chin hairs? Had the doc found an AARP card in my fallopian tubes? Did my vagine mail him a five-dollar bill for Christmas?

Sensing my concern, the OB explained that "elderly primigravida" simply referred to a pregnant woman over the age of 34.

Okay then. So the fetus wasn't wearing compression hose. Good news.

The bad news? My crotchal region is one chip short of BINGO! One low-pressure system shy of "Oww, my knees."

"Elderly primigravida." "Advanced maternal age." Those were the terms that welcomed me into the world of motherhood. And ever since, I've had particularly strong feelings about, what I'll call, "mom lingo."

Many of my friends and family members use mom lingo. So I feel terrible about silently judging them. Frankly, I prefer that my judgements be loud and public. If you're wondering whether I've been judging you, wonder no more. Here is a short list of terms and phrases that I find objectionable:

Baby Bump

A "baby bump" is the term folks have imposed on the bellies of pregnant ladies. I'm not really sure what was wrong with "belly" or "stomach," but someone somewhere decided that pregnancy didn't sound close enough to a jungle disease.

"Aww, look at your baby bump! You should probably treat that with a little benzoyl peroxide or something."

"Her baby bump is totes the cutest. But I'd stand back before it hatches. [whispers] Tiny spiders, y'all!"

Please. Just. Stop it.

Baby bump? You'd better wash your hands.

Pump and Dump

I am actually guilty of using this phrase, but I was strongly influenced by a fishbowl-sized mojito. Look, I get that this term isn't just cutesy; it's also accurate. Had a few drinks? Pump your breast milk and then toss that White Russian down the drain. The problem is that every time I hear "pump and dump"I imagine some poor mom hooked up to a breast pump as she squats on a toilet. And now you do too. Let's come up with some other phrase, shall we? Maybe "saving the baby's liver" or "absolving myself of guilt about drinking a fishbowl-sized mojito"?

I drank all of this. And then I ate Mexican food. You do the math.

Push Present

Okay, first, when did this become a thing? A gift for having a baby? I agree that labor and delivery are, well, laborious, but it's not like moms are doing dads a favor. Once pregnant, that baby's gotta come out. True fact, ladies.

But beyond my beef with the very idea of giving a woman a necklace or a fancy handbag to say, "Thanks for birthing," I take issue with the the term. Like "pump and dump," a very particular image comes to mind when I hear "push present."

Picture it: A woman in stirrups, seized by contractions. She howls. She grunts. She bears down. "I can see it!" shouts the doctor. A cheery burst of confetti shoots from the woman's hooha. And then, joy of joys, out pops a neatly wrapped box containing a blouse from Ann Taylor LOFT and a comfy pair of linen capris. Congratulations! It's a new outfit. Sorry, no returns.

This is so stupid that I can't even . . .

DD, DS, and DH

Are you kidding me with this? Dear son, dear daughter, and dear husband? How about "son," "daughter," and "husband"? Too many letters? How about "kids" and "spouse"? How about "family"? How about we not make our loved ones sound like government agencies? How about you don't force me to refer to my family members as "dear"? I always love my family. However, I do not always like my family. In all fairness, my family does not always like me. Sure, sometimes I'm Shelby's DW, but a lot of the time I'm his "OMGJR?" (Oh my god, Jess, really?) or even just his long, defeated sigh, which kind of defies an acronym.

No more. This is dumb.

Mucus Plug

Not slang, I know. But this is just way, way, way too accurate. I'm actually lobbying to come up with some euphemism to replace this one. "Baby stopper" has a certain appeal. "Stork cork" maybe? I'm open to suggestions.

Effaced

Again, this is not really slang, but this term is misleading. Effacement is when your cervix thins or, eww, "ripens" before delivery. Until I took an actual birthing class, I thought being effaced meant that the baby was, well, see the picture below? Then you get the idea.

Where's mommmmy?

I'm not sure why we can't just say "thinning" instead of "effacement." When you're 9 months pregnant, it would be really nice to hear that something is getting thinner, even if that something is a delicate little pad of skin that's about to be massacred by your precious miracle.

Fur Baby

Look, folks, I know you love your pets. I love my pet too. She's a member of our family. We feed her better than we feed ourselves; we let her musk up all the couches and beds; we make peace with the tumbleweed-sized fur balls blowing through our home. But a "fur baby" she is not.

Yes, the dog is in the shower.
Because there wasn't enough hair in the drain.

First of all, unlike my actual baby, Sarah the dog has the decency to crap outside in the grass. And unlike my actual baby, Sarah the dog is content to sleep most of the day and night. And unlike my actual baby, Sarah the dog did not suckle from my bosom and thus turn that bosom into a deflated heap of chest flesh. However, both my Pork Chop and Sarah enjoy chewing on a good stick. But really, the similarities end there.

Unless you're nursing an Ewok, no more "fur baby," okay?

And that's it. That's my list. If you've used one of the above terms, I've thought less of you. But, for what it's worth, I just ate a slice of American cheese and a handful of Tostitos for breakfast.

12 comments:

No matter what you call what you had going on under your sweater in the top picture, I love that outfit! The sweater. The shoes. The matching bag! Also, the drink in picture #2 is looking pretty damn good right about now, too.

Full disclosure: I made my husband take that picture because my friends and family were getting pissed that I refused to post any pregnancy snaps. The shoes came off .5 seconds after the camera flashed. As for the mojito, it was amazing (sorry to rub it in).

Just for the record, I where compression stockings and this post made me laugh out loud. By the way, I did get a card last Christmas with a five it it and no signature. Thanks Jess's vagina. -Sarah :-)

I promise you every time I hear fur baby I think either tar baby a la Uncle Remus or, more often, a monchichi. I've used DS/DD/DH. I have. It was 1999 and I was in a parenting chat roo and had to fit in lest the mean overlord rulers of BabyCenter yelled GET HER! Bump is probably the one that irks me the most, with a present for pushing close behind (although, admittedly, I've gotten a gift with each child. It was called a baby). Would the Ann Taylor box hurt the woman coming out? *moves head side to side while wincing at thought*: square, big ass circle. Square, big ass effaced circle.

Girl, the cutoff is whenever your business end decides to shutter its doors, er, door. And I'm glad you got some LOLs out of your read. This was a vagine-heavy post, and that's not for everyone (but obviously for you).

I'm really sorry I didn't get around to reading this post till bikini season was well underway, because I just laughed my ass off! Not to worry, I will show off my newly shorn ass at the pool tomorrow. Your're a comic genius.

I was just trying to decipher dh this afternoon. I looked it up and was like you have got to be kidding me! How about HSHYSIGHSMH, short for 'haven't shot him yet so I guess he's still my husband'. It even includes the word SIGH, which I'm pretty sure is really clever.